


Cafuné

by HuiLian



Series: Untranslatable [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I love them so much, this two will be the death of me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 07:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13970439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HuiLian/pseuds/HuiLian
Summary: Cafuné (Brazilian Portuguese): the act of tenderly running fingers through someone's hairor, Damian got shot.





	Cafuné

**Author's Note:**

> okay, I'll be honest. I was supposed to work on my Noctuis series, yet I can't seem to get it out. So, this is the compromise.   
> Hope you like it?

  
  
Damian was hurt.   
  
It was supposed to be a regular patrol. It was supposed to be a quiet night. But, like everything in Dick's life, things did not happen as it was supposed to.   
  
Dick was careless. He was Batman, and he was careless. And now his Robin was hurt because of it.   
  
Dick should have seen the gun. Dick should have noticed the man pulling out the gun. Dick should have dodged the bullet. That was what Batman should do. That was what _Bruce_ would do.  
  
He didn't deserve the cowl.   
  
Damian saw the gun. Damian jumped to the line of fire to take the bullet. It wouldn't have been fatal if it had hit Dick, and yet Damian, ever the Robin, took it for him.   
  
Damian believed that it was a Robin's duty to protect his Batman from any harm. Any harm at all. Dick wouldn't know. Bruce had never caused Dick to take a bullet for him.   
  
Now, now, Damian was lying on the medical cot, with a gunshot wound to his stomach, because Dick was not good enough as Batman.   
  
He looked so young there, surrounded by medical equipment. God, what was Dick doing, dragging a ten-year-old to fight crime in Gotham?  
  
(He knew he was being a hypocrite. He didn't care. Damian was worth being a hypocrite for.)  
  
Alfred had tended to the wound, as usual. Alfred had cleaned the wound, had put the necessary medicine, and had bind the wound. It was taken care of. There was nothing else Dick could do right now. And isn't that the worst feeling? Watching your loved ones suffer and knowing that there was nothing you could do to help ease the pain.  
  
Dick dragged a chair to Damian's bedside, and contented himself to watch.   
  
Halfway through the night, Damian stirred. He mumbled something unintelligible. Nightmares, Dick thought, or perhaps the painkiller was wearing off.   
  
Dick checked the IV and added some more painkillers.   
  
Still, Damian was restless. Dick sat back down and ran his fingers through Damian's hair.   
  
It was something that would comfort him. Would comfort Dick, anyway, when he was the one lying in pain on the medical cot. Dick could only hope that it would bring some kind of comfort to Damian as well, because this was the only thing Dick could do right now.   
  
If Damian was awake, he would have swatted Dick's hand away. If Damian was awake, he would have tutted and got out of Dick's way. Damian was not awake now. Damian couldn’t protest this simple act of care. Dick would rather have him awake, and unhurt, than have him not protest Dick’s ministrations.  
  
Dick watched Damian, while continuing to run his hand through Damian's hair. It was so soft, it adds to the realization that Damian was still a child. He was still a child, and Dick had taken him to war.   
  
Granted, Damian wouldn't stand for a regular family. Dick himself didn't know how to give him a regular family. Dick didn't know what a regular family _was_. But still, Dick should have taken better care of him. Dick should have taught him how to trust someone, how to receive love, how to let his guard down with people he trusted. Dick should have taught him how to be a _child_.   
  
Instead of that, Dick had given Damian violence. The fact that Dick could only do this–only show care and have it received–was when Damian was unconscious and addled with painkillers, spoke volumes.   
  
Dick was so lost in thought, that he almost missed Damian's eyes opening.   
  
“Grayson?” Damian asked weakly.   
  
Dick hummed in response, hand still carding Damian's hair.   
  
“Where am I?”  
  
“You're in the Cave, kiddo. You're safe.”  
  
Instead of calming Damian, like he intended, the words seemed to agitate Damian even more.   
  
“What about you?”  
  
God, even doused with painkillers, drowsy with sleep, and probably distracted with the pain from the wound, Damian asked for him. He asked for Dick's wellbeing, even above his own. That put a knife through Dick's heart. Really, he didn't understand the people who thought that Damian was simply an assassin child, incapable of kindness.   
  
“I'm fine. It's you who got shot, kiddo.”  
  
Damian mumbled something in reply.   
  
“What's that? Can't catch that, Dami.”  
  
“Good. Good.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dick could feel his voice wavering. No, he had to be strong for Damian. “Don't do that again, all right, Damian?”  
  
Damian hummed, and then promptly fell back to his slumber. Dick smiled sadly to himself.   
  
“Don't do that again, don't get hurt because of me again," Dick whispered, praying to whatever god who was listening that Damian would never got hurt because of him again, and at the same time knowing that he most probably will.   
  
Dick kissed Damian's brow, and then ran his fingers through Damian's hair one last time. Afterwards, he settled in his chair, ready to continue his vigil through the long hours of night.

**Author's Note:**

> check out my tumblr (huilian.tumblr.com)


End file.
